Delayed Gratification
by Eyes Behind the Mask
Summary: The diagnosis turned her life upside down, but not as much as he would that night. After striking a deal with the devil, Dana can only wait... but for how long?
1. Chapter 1

What she was sure was going to be only a formality when her physician had called her in to read those test results a few months ago had left her mouth dry and her heart pounding as the doctor read her those fateful words and offered his prognosis, which was dismally poor. Less than a year at the most before she'd be in need of around the clock care, and then perhaps another of dubious quality.

Less than a year.

Dubious quality, at best.

Dana's head reeled as she continued to fixate on those words, her hands tightening into fists. She hadn't cried, not there at the office, but once she'd returned to her home she'd shut herself into her room and cried until her eyes and throat burned, and her chest was sore.

She was only twenty-five, and in what kind of world did something so viciously final happen to someone like her? She'd been popular and well liked in high school, had excelled in college and had a cushy yet fulfilling job writing freelance for several magazines and she was also hard at work on her first novel.

It would never be finished now, unlike her.

Dana rolled onto her side, watching listlessly as the light began to fade from her open bedroom window. It was early fall, and beginning to become chilly in the evenings and she knew she should close the window but instead found herself focussing on the crispness. The leaves were beginning to turn outside, and the air was beginning to smell of fall, of leaves burning, cool mornings, and something she could never quite put her finger on.

What was that elusive essence of fall, anyway? It was nothing she'd ever really pondered in her day to day life, but now it seemed an imperative riddle to be solved. After all, this would likely be her final autumn, at least the last one spent outside of a long term care facility. Might as well identify just what it was that gave the season it's glory. Perhaps it was damp earth, or cooling waters, or maybe it was the smell of ripeness, of the harvest. Maybe it was all of these things, along with a sense of contentment that seemed to ripple through most everyone she knew. While not everyone claimed it as their favorite season, she had yet to meet anyone who out and out professed hatred for it.

Dana loved Fall personally, and as she pondered it's mysteries she felt fresh tears welling up at the thought that this would be the last real one for her. Harvest to her had always meant a cornucopia of delights, a feeling of abundance, and now the word seemed bitter on her tongue and brought associations of being cut down in one's prime. After all, she mused, the wheat was always cut down when it was at it's highest and most golden, and no one in their right mind plucked a still green apple from the boughs with the intention of a quick snack.

So it would be for her. She'd become like they were, but unlike a stalk of wheat or a ripe red apple or the seasons themselves she was cognizant of her own mortality, and was thus able to fear the reaper.

She couldn't deny it, the idea of death was utterly petrifying, and something she'd pushed to the very back of her mind until her diagnosis had stirred it awake and it had since been a constant although very unwelcome companion for her. Every morning when she rose from her bed and took her morning cup of coffee, the reaper was there, peering out from some dark crevice. When she sat pondering the right phrase to use in an article she could feel that icy gaze, and when she sat down to eat she couldn't shake the feeling it watched from the windows. At night when she fought sleep and lost she could feel it's presence pressing in around her until exhaustion overtook her. And even then, she was sure it remained, motionless, watching, waiting, biding it's time until the opportunity came to devour her.

She rolled again, her back to the window now, lost in her own thoughts as sleep slowly crept upon her like a cat advancing on it's prey, so gradually she didn't even notice. The white voile curtains blew gently as the breeze began to pick up slightly, as the shadows deepened. Dana didn't stir though, emotionally exhausted and too deep within the arms of sleep to feel the chill, or see the sliver of white appear outside her window, watching.

* * *

Dana tossed and turned, shivering and reaching for her blanket to tug it up over her, eyes slowly blinking open when she could not immediately locate it. The room was nearly pitch dark save the small pumpkin pie scented candle she'd lit earlier and forgotten to snuff out before laying down. She hadn't intended to fall asleep, not so early anyway, not when she had such little time left in her view. Sleep was something to rail against, it was too much of a preview of her approaching fate and she loathed it. She sat up groggily, intent on rising and felt her heart jump into her throat when she saw him.

Her cry of fear died on her lips as he approached with a predator's grace and speed, seizing her by the throat and staring into her wide hazel eyes coldly. Dana struggled, his hand cutting off any further attempts at rousing enough noise to alert a neighbor. She gaped up at him, her heart racing wildly, as she kicked and squirmed while he looked on impassively. She could see into those dark sockets behind the stark bone white and the candlelight flicking off of those black eyes only serving to impress just how empty and cold they truly were. It was looking into the eyes of a Great White, or into an impossibly deep dark abyss, and she slammed her eyes shut, whimpering and not wanting to look any deeper for fear of what she might see.

Less than a year.

Dubious quality, at best.

That lying fucker, she raged within, as she felt her head began to spin, struggling for breath. Where was the last slice of her Autumn, her Winter with snowflakes floating lazily from the heavens and mugs of hot chocolate with a massive marshmallow slowly melting atop. Where the hell was the possibility of green buds on the trees, and birds singing the earth awake from it's slumber, and what of the dim yet hopeful prospect of returning full circle to those hot, lazy days reclining in a hammock in the yard and the songs of cicadas on cooler evenings? The Reaper had apparently decided to cruelly cheat her of those at a time when she was desperate to experience each and every one of them. Was it only that he felt that her time had come, and was coming to collect in the season of the harvest? While it was true that every day it was becoming harder to fight sleep, and almost as hard to rouse herself from bed, and the tremors and spasms had become more than just a slight annoyance she was still clinging to all of those things, and she sobbed chokedly to think that they would never exist for her, outside of her mind right now.

Dana began to feel warmer now, and almost groggy, and though her mind railed against it as she did sleep every night, her body was betraying her. And just when she was sure she slipping right down into the abyss she'd seen in those empty eyes, he let go.

She gasped for air, harder than she ever had in her life, hand immediately going to her throat as her mind screamed for her to run, her body again refusing to do her bidding. She opened her eyes, and he was still there, head tilted almost like a cat observing the mouse it had spent the past five minutes batting around before preparing to pounce again.

Her body finally agreeing to do her bidding, albeit slowly, she began to scramble up. Her eyes darted to the open window that had undoubtedly been the source of his entrance, and then she understood.

This wasn't the black cloaked skeletal wraith she'd envisioned for the past couple of months as the trembling had become stronger and more frequent. No, this was a man of solid flesh and bone, tall and imposing, his face hidden behind a pale, waxy white mask, and those cold, dead eyes still fixed on her.

While this man before her was just as fatal as the reaper's scythe and perhaps as legendary, at least in this neck of the woods, he wasn't the personage of death that she'd felt creeping in ever closer. This was Michael Myers, the butcher of Haddonfield in her room. She didn't know whether she should be thankful that it wasn't Death himself in all his glory, or be even more frightened, because she certainly hadn't envisioned going out in a series of brutal swings of an oversized kitchen knife while pinned down by the throat by an unholily strong hand. He might not be death, but like her, death was also his constant companion, following in his wake wherever he went.

Dana laughed hoarsely at that that, stunning herself. She, a woman who had felt death stalk her each and every day had the misfortune to be sprawled before what was perhaps the closest thing to a flesh and blood embodiment of it. She continued to laugh, her tone bordering on hysterical now, as he continued to watch with what she swore was a growing interest. Dana couldn't really blame him, she thought with another nervous peal of laughter bursting from her lips. How many of the Boogeyman's victims met their end giggling and guffawing like a busload of school children laughing at a sophomoric risque joke? It had to be something new for him, she was sure of that. He'd be more accustomed to screaming, pleading and begging, no doubt. Maybe he didn't know what to make of this, and that's why he hadn't grabbed her again.

Just then she grimaced as another tremor overtook her, her mouth twisting wryly as her muscles wracked and spasmed hard. He'd tilted again at that, perhaps wondering just why his quarry had gone from laughing hysterically to twitching and making such an awful face.

Whether it was her close call earlier clouding her judgement or some morbid sense of humor that had taken twenty-five years and a death sentence to dredge up she found his gesture somehow stupendously funny, and began to laugh again, although a bit more raspily and pained this time.

"I'm dying," she chuckled, her voice husky and raw. "Of all the houses in town, you chose this one to break into, and I'm already dying. Less than a year left."

If he understood any of her words, he gave no indication other than to continue to stare as what Dana was sure was quite a spectacle for him. Just when she wondered if he were going to either leave or grab her again he shifted slightly, and just as quickly one of those hands were on her shoulders, pushing her back down onto the mattress slowly yet firmly. She stopped laughing, sure that she was about to witness the silvery arc of the knife he no doubt had upon his person swinging down into her chest, tummy, or even worse, her face. Dana shuddered at the thought of being carved up in a twisted mockery of a jack o'lantern, but the jagged pain of cold steel plunging into warm flesh didn't come. Instead, his other hand drifted conspicuously knife-less up to the neckline of her shirt, and brushed there slightly against the reddened flesh of her neck where he'd squeezed mercilessly earlier.

Dana gulped, and wondered if he were merely toying with her now, and still intended to break out that knife the second she least expected it, but any alternative to that seemed almost impossible. One did not walk away from an encounter with the Boogeyman utterly unscathed. It was unheard of. Yes, there had been survivors, painfully few, but even they were scarred mentally and most often physically as well. But she'd never, ever heard of anything like this happening.

So what was he doing, then?

Dana looked up curiously, only to wince slightly as those cold eyes trained in on her, and he paused again, the only sound in the room his heavy breathing behind the mask and her own heart pounding.

Then his fingers found the top button of her shirt, and flicked it open almost gracefully, to her shock.

Her heart began to beat even faster now, words failing her. She'd been single for the past six months after throwing her on and off again boyfriend Jake out after a particularly nasty row over his destructive drinking habit, and not long after she'd been diagnosed and that had put a damper on finding anyone else. Even when she met a guy she liked, the mention of her poor health was enough to turn off even those made of stern stuff. No one wanted to invest anything in a woman not long for this earth, and she'd accepted that. But this man seemed interested, there was no denying it. He was breathing even more heavily now, and had found his way to the second button and popped it off outright, not bothering with delicacy anymore.

Dana couldn't help but jump as the button snapped off, and he stopped, eyes still focussed intensely on her. She stiffened, still expecting that knife to make an appearance any moment now, but it didn't, and he only continued to stare. She licked her lips nervously, and though she thought she might soon regret it, she couldn't help but whisper a single word.

"Why?"

He only continued to stare at her in silence. Verbal responses weren't something he was known for and though she knew that, she had decided to try anyway. He tugged off another button and then another, working his way slowly but steadily down her shirt now. Once he'd popped the last button of her shirt, he removed his firm hand from her shoulder and pulled open the shirt with both hands, his breathing seemed to grow a little heavier as he revealed her pale flesh.

She shivered both at the chill settling over her skin thanks to that open window, as well as the intensity of that gaze. Although she really hadn't expected an answer anyway, she could help but wonder exactly why she wasn't on the business end of a large carving knife right about now. What had changed his mind, she wondered, wracking her brain for anything she might have said or done that could have spurred the decision to strip her down and ogle her breasts rather than continue to strangle her? Perhaps there wasn't anything at all that had swayed him, and she was just trying to assign order where there was none. She didn't dare move again though, and let him look, wondering exactly what he'd do next.

She didn't have to wonder long as he soon moved a hand to squeeze one of her breasts, kneading the flesh several times before moving his other hand to squeeze her other breast, his breathing even more audible from behind his mask. He then did something else she never expected, moving his fingers to her nipples, squeezing and pulling lightly at them as they stiffened in response. He continued to stare down at her, though she found it impossible to tell what exactly his eyes were currently focusing on.

Unable to help herself, she failed to bite back a whimper, not used to this kind of treatment, not recently anyway. As he continued to squeeze and toy with her nipples, her mind began to race with the possibilities here. She'd not ever heard of him doing this with any of his victims, not to her knowledge anyway. While she had no idea why he was doing it, the idea that he found this interesting and desirable enough to leave her alive for the moment raised an intriguing question. He obviously wasn't above the urge for indulging the taste for something other than killing, the way he was currently teasing her nipples into stiff peaks proved that. Was it possible to perhaps use this as a bartering chip of sorts? Wondering if she were not every bit as mental as he was, she slowly began to speak, eyes on those dark pits.

"I told you, you picked the wrong house if you were really looking to snuff someone out before their time has come. I have less than a year left, I told you that as well. You'd only be hastening the inevitable, here. Sure, no one wants to die, but I doubt even you understand what it's like to be facing down the end. How much you treasure just what little you have left." The words were stilted and weak, but she was sure he'd heard them, there was no way he hadn't.

"I'll let you do whatever you want, if you will just give me a little more time to enjoy what I have left. I only have a few good months left in me, and honestly after that I don't really care. I'd probably even welcome you, honestly. Just not now, not yet."


	2. Chapter 2

Hands still on her breasts, he stopped suddenly, tilting his head slowly to one side at her words. His breathing calmed some for a moment, causing her to wonder even more about his actions. Whether or not he agreed to her deal with him was completely unknown to her as he then began to work her breasts again, weighing her down with his body although not painfully. Moving one hand down, he skimmed down over her belly and on further to the waist of her pants. Slipping his hand palm down inside, Dana looked up and saw that his eyes were definitely focused on her face and not on what his hand was doing, as if he were trying as hard to read her as she'd attempted to make out what he was thinking earlier.

She squirmed, deciding to take it as the closest thing she'd get to an agreement out of him. Whether it was or wasn't remained to be seen, but she wasn't going to push the matter. After all, surely he'd have just gone ahead and offed her then if he'd found the terms not to his liking. Dana whimpered as his hand slid closer to her panty clad slit, conflicted between wanting him to continue, and feeling ashamed that she was allowing this. While some girls might fight tooth and nail with their lives on the line to protect their virtue, she was doing the exact opposite here, and offering it up in a bid to secure a few more months of life. What did that make her? She didn't ponder that for very long however, the sensation of his hand touching such a neglected spot was outweighing everything else for the moment, and she whimpered, shocking herself as she began to press against it.

He responded by rubbing his hand faster and harder over the front of her panties. Slowly, he finally looked down as his hand stuffed down the front of her pants, squeezing her breast again with his other hand before moving it to squeeze her other breasts, keeping them warm despite the chill in the air from the open window. He began breathing heavier again as he rubbed even faster over her slit, clearly aware of the fact that she was enjoying the way he did that. Maybe he even took some sort of pride in the way he brought a feeling to her that she thought she'd never know again from another human being. He kept rubbing as he looked back up at her face again, hand still flexing over her breasts as he observed her.

Dana groaned, starting to huff slightly, shoving every last thought of this being a bad idea firmly to the back of her mind. Now she only cared about what he was doing to her, how good it felt, and how inevitable it was that there would be more to be had. She moaned softly, grinding up against his hand harder, wanting him to keep going. While she wasn't quite comfortable with the idea of touching him just yet, afraid that it might set him off in a direction she might not find as pleasing, she did squirm closer, daring to let her leg brush against him testingly.

He paused briefly when she brushed her leg, though he didn't seem to mind either as he instead started to rub his palm even faster over the front of her panties, hand squeezing at her breasts even harder before tweaking her nipples with his fingers again, breathing getting even heavier behind his mask. A small bulge began to form at the crotch of his dark jumpsuit too, not yet noticeable to her, but it undoubtedly soon would be as it got bigger. He then pushed further by sliding his hands out of her pants onto to slide it into her panties, rubbing faster, her wetness helping him along with the speed.

Gasping hard at the direct contact she wriggled beneath him, cheeks flushing and the cold air not even noticiable anymore with the heat that was steadily surging upwards. Deciding to take a chance, she slowly reached for her waistband, squirming and writhing to slide the garments down her hips and allow him better access to that part that was begging for more. Still she didn't dare touch him, or do anything else but squirm and snuffle as he continued to rub and tease, biting back a request for more, now.

He didn't miss a beat, slipping a finger into her wet slit, worming it into deep and grinding it into her, pressing his palm to rub at her clit still too. He looked down, apparently very interested in what he was doing to her and how it looked as he did. His bulge got bigger as he worked, seemingly not phased at all by the fact that she was ill and soon to die. Even if he only wanted sex, Dana couldn't help but think so far he had shown a better reaction than she had gotten out of a guy in a very long while. Who knew, maybe he even found it a turn on, she wouldn't put it past him. He did deal in death, after all.

Looking down, she could see the effect this was having on him and as much as she hated to admit it, the thought of that steadily growing cock held back by dark cloth was something she was very interested in. She shifted under him, whining softly as he worked that finger deeper, already wet with anticipation, and soaking up the sensations that she had been sure she wasn't ever going to experience again. Maybe this was indeed a win-win situation, and he'd not only walk away without incident at the end, but she'd also get to experience being on the business end of his hard cock without expiring shortly afterwards. Squeaking sharply as he pressed against something especially sensitive, she spread her legs as wide as she could manage, bucking up at his hand, whispering that she wanted more. If he'd been anyone else, she'd have already been after his meat, but even now she was too afraid of touching him. Things were going well so far, and she didn't want to screw it up.

Promptly he slid a second finger to her slit, sinking them and wriggling as if he wanted them even deeper. Whether or not he actually found her attractive was as impossible to tell as the true color of his eyes with that mask on, but that was irrelevant too. It was obvious he had plans for her, and if they were anything like what he was currently doing she was sure she'd approve.

Dana yelped as he added that second finger, arching and bucking harder against it, to her amazement already feeling that stirring deep inside that was only ever the result of letting her fingers do the walking lately. Groaning harder, she bucked up, a thin sheen of sweat beading on her brow, her breath coming in hard pants. She could see that bulge very clearly now, and prayed he was about to use it, she wanted it now, wanted to experience all the things he could do for her with that cock. Hissing slightly, her thighs shaking, she felt herself coming even closer, and began to beg.

He finally looked up again as she hissed and begged, and obligingly started to thrust his fingers in and out of her pussy, working them fast. Unable to stand any more of this teasing, she came hard, arching and whimpering under him, her pussy spasming and clamping on those long fingers. Shaking like a leaf now, and trying to stay atop the wave, she reached for him, her small hands right over that hard bulge in his jumpsuit.

He stopped toying with her slit as she boldly groped for his cock, though she couldn't help but smirk just slightly as he did nothing to stop her. While she still had a healthy fear of him, no doubt, she couldn't help but feel a small thrill at the way his meat pulsed as she touched it through the dark cloth. Apparently he appreciated her attentions, tilting his head down to watch her before slowly starting to thrust his fingers in her pussy again. His breathing was getting heavier again, more than indicating that he was both enjoying his actions and the result of his actions.

She was nearly growling with frustration now, her hand on his crotch confirming what she'd been thinking, and only furthering her resolve to have him, now. Dana stiffened as he continued to thrust his fingers, whimpering and stroking her hand over the fabric covering that hardness, her eyes darting up to the zipper. Since he'd made no move to stop her, and indeed even seemed to approve of her actions, she reached for the zipper and began to tug it down.

If it bothered him at all he gave no indication, only thrusting his fingers a little faster in her pussy again, still breathing heavily. Dana did take note of the way his eyes remained on her though, giving the impression that he either didn't totally trust her, or maybe just that he liked watching.

The sound of the zipper coming down was sharp in contrast to his sterterous breathing and her own whimpering and moaning, and she quickly found what she'd been looking for, to her delight. She began to experimentally touch, groaning as he squeezed her breasts what seemed like especially hard, although if he meant it as encouragement or as a warning to tread lightly was unknown to her. Dana slowly began to stroke, and coax his cock, her pussy growing even wetter in anticipation of having that inside of her.

As she stroked his hard meat, he suddenly curled his fingers upward and began to thrust them faster in her pussy, her juices dripping as he worked. He squeezed her breasts continuously with his other hand as he looked down to watch her tugging on his cock, the hardness pulsing, a small spot of pre-cum forming on the tip. His breathing was still heavy and he seemed hypnotized by the sight of her hand cranking away at his cock. How many people could say they'd touched him in such a way? Well, possibly many, but it seemed unlikely too, given his known history of butchering people and always managing to disappear before he was actually apprehended.

That thought wasn't lost on her at all either, as a small smirk began to form on her lips again. Maybe she was crazy, but she was finding the danger almost appealing in a way now. She continued to stroke, arching hard as he continued to bang those long fingers away at her pussy. It was strange in a way that it took being close enough to death to practically smell it to truly feel alive.

He looked back up at her face, thrusting those fingers faster, his breathing heavier as he worked her and she worked him. He then released her breasts and slowly moved that hand to her face. Holding it in front of her face for a moment, a moment that made her wonder if he'd had enough, he gently brushed a finger at her lips, those black eyes gazing deep into hers for a long moment, almost in the manner a lover might. She didn't know how to react then, freezing at the sudden very intimate contact that in some ways was far deeper than what he was doing to the rest of her body. She sighed softly, rocking her hips up, feeling that familiar tug again, knowing she was very, very close to coming again.

He seemed to sense that she was close too, perhaps from her sigh or maybe just from possible observation or even experimentation. His cock pulsed more in her hand as he kept thrusting his fingers at a rapid speed. She had no way to tell when he might be close, his heavy breathing fairly constant as they played with each others' parts. He didn't groan. He didn't make any noise other than his breathing and that was caused in part by his breath hitting the mask. He still stared into her eyes, as if he wanted to see exactly how they looked when she came, his fingertip gently pressing at her lips now.

Dana groaned hard, jerking violently under him, her stroking of his cock interrupted by the rush of heat up her spine and the shivering tug at her puss as she came hard on his fingers, clamping down so hard for a moment she wondered if it hurt him at all. Panting for breath, she redoubled her effort at stroking that hard, pulsing cock, staring right back up into his eyes, silently urging him on.

Whether or not he had some secret ability to read minds remained a mystery, but moments later, white, hot, sticky seed exploded from the slit at the tip of his pulsing cock, his breathing even heavier, mixed with a couple grunts. The sticky mess shot out far, most of it landing just below her breasts. Who knew when he last came. It was hard to imagine him sitting around looking at a porno magazine, but he did seem to know exactly what he was doing too, his fingers still stuffed into her very wet pussy. His breathing slowed slightly again as the last few drops of his cum oozing out of his still hard cock.

The sensation of that hot sticky warmth on her flesh was enough to bring her back into the moment, and she continued to stroke idly, craving that cock somewhere else, whispering harshly that she wanted him inside of her now, spreading her legs wider to embellish the point. He was still pulsing in her hand, and from the looks of things was still ready to go another round, something that intrigued and excited her.

He suddenly stopped thrusting his fingers, still staring, staring deep into her eyes, his cock twitching a little in her hand now, undoubtedly sensitive after such a big load of cum. He moved his finger from her lips and slowly traced over and down her chin, down her neck, between her breasts, and through his cum before slowly slipping his fingers out of her pussy. For another moment, he did nothing but stare, again making her wonder if he'd had enough, if he'd cum and now he wanted to get something else out of her, something crimson. He didn't reach for anything that could bring him that though, instead moving his body down slightly, his hard meat slipping out of her grip. Grabbing himself, he looked down as he leaned back in, guiding the head of his hard cock towards her sopping slit, a small drop of cum still on the tip of his cock. He then pressed, pressing until the tip of his cock slid into her slit and then he slowly pushed further, still watching as his hard, thick shaft disappeared further and further into her pussy.

Dana moaned hard as he began to slide in, the meat much harder and thicker than his fingers, filling her up and making her feel as if the pressure inside were too much to bear in a wonderful sort of way. How he, of all people could make her feel like that she didn't understand but she didn't care either, at that moment. She only wanted more, and rolled her hips upward begging to feel more of that cock inside, lightly clamping on every inch he offered. In return he pushed, pressed further, more of his thick meat slipping in, leaning on her, before beginning to rock hard against her. His hands were pressed against the covers just above her shoulders, fingers gripping the cloth. He looked up again, those hollow black holes pointed at her face again, at her eyes again.

She writhed under him, her hot, wet slit struggling to contain him, as he thrust and pumped deep inside, a low cry escaping her lips as he worked something deep within her. Those eyes on her were almost magnetic, the way they pulled at her, almost as intense as the feeling inside of her. Strange how somehow he could make this feel incredibly intimate in a twisted way, and leave her wanting even more than she already had. She clamped again on his cock, groaning softly and daring to reach up to place a hand tentatively on his side, feeling the stiffness of his body as he worked her pussy. She wasn't afraid of him anymore, he'd had numerous chances to put a stop to this by now, and by all indications he had no intention of doing so whatsoever.

His breathing got heavier as she clamped on his meat and he rocked harder against her, his meat feeling as if it had somehow slipped even deeper into her pussy. He didn't seem to mind her hand touching him either, perhaps having accepted the fact that if he was going to fuck her, she was going to touch him anyway. He looked away from her eyes again, down between them to where their crotches met. Her eyes followed his down, moaning softly as she took in that sight as well, finding it very much a turn on, seeing his cock nestled in that hot juncture between her thighs. She squeezed his side softly, moaning harder as that hot stiff cock worked deeper into her, feeling completely filled, completely satisfied. She never wanted it to end, and sliding a hand down to rub at her clit as he thrust, whimpering and bucking up harder.

He didn't make a move to stop her from rubbing her clit either, starting to instead bounce slightly against her, his thick cock grinding even deeper as a result. His breathing was steady and heavy behind his mask as he worked, still looking down, watching, perhaps feeling some pride in being able to do such a thing to a woman. A thing he likely witnessed at least once before during the many times he stalked young women. A thing he had to wonder about, had to wonder how it felt, physically and mentally.

She wondered briefly if it compared to the sort of thrusting he was used to, of that oversized kitchen knife into hot flesh. Dana didn't doubt that the act brought him some form of gratification, she could only wonder how this compared. She continued to rub, already feeling very close again, her pussy by now very sensitive and hot from all the attention paid to it recently. She groaned hard, and squeezed him a bit tighter, huffing harder as she let him drive her wild.

Her squeezing caused him to rock and bounce his hips harder, drilling that thick meat further, filling her to the brim with cock. He brought his eyes back up to hers as she huffed, as if wanting to see again as she came again. If his cock thrusting was like his knife thrusting, did that mean the look on her face mirrored what he saw when he looked down at one of his victims? The thought only made another twisted tingle of pleasure go down her spine as he pounded her harder and harder, his own breathing still heavy but steady, again making it hard to tell when he might cum again. She wanted it though, and the idea that she was actively trying to get him off wasn't lost on her. It had to be a first for him, she was certain of it.

Dana felt his grip on her hips tighten, as he shot that hot load inside of her this time and then she was not far behind him, her toes curling and legs shaking as he brought her over again. For a moment it was like time had stopped, and nothing existed other than the hot, damp flesh pressed together, and the sound of their paired heavy breathing, as both attempted to recover from what had just transpired between them.

Then, almost as is nothing ad happened, he was lifting himself up, off and out of her, the rush of cold air in his absence sharp. His eyes trained on hers with a strange intensity, and Dana held her breath, wondering if the 'understanding' they'd come to only existed in her mind. Not a word was spoken, as he righted himself, and began to zip up, the tension almost palpable between them. What would he do?

He continued to look at her, nothing even approaching some thing she could comprehend, and that icy feeling began to return to the pit of her stomach and displace the heat they'd just worked together to make.

And then he just turned his back to her, and walked away, without so much as a glance. Dana could only stare numbly, her mind racing to make sense of what had just happened. He'd apparently accepted the deal, and was leaving, leaving her behind to both marvel at the fact she'd apparently just pulled off a figurative deal with the devil, as well as wonder when he'd be back to collect.


	3. Chapter 3

Time passed, and as much as she tried, Dana couldn't help but return to the memory of that night, and ponder the unlikely bargain she'd struck. As impossible as it seemed, he had walked away, and left her intact at the end of their coupling, although for how long that would continue she had no clue. She only knew that she'd been granted a stay of execution for the meantime, and she was determined to make the most of it.

That wasn't the only thing she'd taken away from the encounter, however. As frightened out of her wits as she had been that night, and continued to be at the thought of him returning to collect, with it was that thin curl of desire that she was ashamed to acknowledge. How sick, no pun intended, did it make her to think of that night whenever she lay alone in bed, or in the bath, or even sprawled out on the couch watching a movie?

Was it wrong that every time she slid her hand down the front of her waistband, it wasn't a former boyfriend, a handsome actor, or even a fantasy lover dreamed up in the darkest corners of her mind that she thought of, but him? The logical part of her certainly agreed that fantasizing about her close call was certainly deviant and unhealthy. But logic had no place in her mind as she slowly worked herself into a hot, wanting mess, and lost herself in the memory of those unfathomably dark eyes.

* * *

On Halloween itself, when she'd sworn she'd seen him in every shadow and behind every bush had ended without incident save the small square of caramel candy that had somehow appeared on her nightstand while she slept. Dana had looked the candy over dubiously before doing something that shocked her. She'd unwrapped the crinkly cellophane and popped it into her mouth.

It was almost achingly sweet, and she found herself thinking of that night again, and of the promise she was fairly sure she'd extracted from him. Dana wondered if she'd see him again before the appointed time, and felt a familiar tingle between her legs, remembering.

* * *

Over a month had passed without a sign that she'd been observed, and her bad spells had become even more frequent and she found herself resting far more often and not even trying to fight sleep anymore. Truthfully she'd stopped that after her encounter with Myers. He'd in his own way helped her to understand there was really no fighting the inevitable, and with that had come a strange peace that settled over her.

How fitting it was during the season of peace on earth and good will towards men that it had come. Dana thought as she sipped the hot cocoa she'd thought she'd never taste again only a few months ago when his hand had been clenched around her throat. She watched the snow drifting outside her window, for hours before retiring. Christmas would be a white one this year, something that pleased her immensely. While they were not exactly a rarity, she was happy that this last one was pulling out all the stops for her.

In the morning she'd woken to footprints in the otherwise pristine snow outside her window. In some ways they had made her happier than any of the gifts she'd received that year.

* * *

Winter was nearing an end now, and Dana was convinced that she wasn't far behind it. While she thought she'd probably manage to hold on long enough to see at least the Ides of Spring, everything beyond that seemed almost as intangible and unreachable as the fathoms of those dark eyes. She found herself thinking of him even more frequently now, and wondered if that in itself were not a sign things were drawing to a end for her.

On the 14th she'd ventured outside, bundled from head to toe in heavy sweaters and boots, and she'd found a torn page from a magazine stuck beneath the windshield wiper of her Civic. The picture was facing inward, and despite the ache in her body she'd opened the car door and climbed in only to look out the glass into a field of faded yet still prettily pastel flowers. While it could have been from the storm they'd recently had that had blown an assortment of debris all over the roads and yards, she liked to believe otherwise.

* * *

In April something almost miraculous had happened. While she hadn't gotten better by any means, there were signs that she had, for the moment stabilized to a degree. Her doctor had even optimistically suggested that she might just see the leaves turn again, that she might have a little more time than originally estimated, but cautioned her against pushing herself and ordered that she take it easy.

The news, while far from unwelcome made her sigh tiredly when she contemplated the long months ahead. Even if her condition didn't degenerate further for a couple of months, she did have to admit that she was growing tired, and almost impatient for Myers to return to make good on their bargain. But maybe that was just her pessimism talking.

Sometimes she wondered if there ever had been a deal, if it were not all just in her head and if he'd even understood or cared about what she'd asked of him. Then she'd think of the way and the way he'd managed to both terrify as well as totally satisfy her in one act. The way he'd touched her, and looked into her eyes continued to haunt her, as well, and sometimes she almost found herself wishing desperately he'd make an encore performance.

She shoved all of that from her mind though, and instead contemplated the greenery and the songs of the blue birds flitting from the tree in her yard. That night her window was open, when she swore it had been closed before she went to sleep. The curtains blew like they had on that night last year, but he had not appeared.

* * *

The dog days of summer had arrived, and with them any hope of her brief stay of execution lasting much longer. Dana had fought the urging of her doctor and family to go ahead and start making plans sooner than later for care in a more appropriate setting, She'd refused however, and had reached a compromise in having a home healthcare provider come to the house daily instead.

Now, when she felt up to it, she sat at the window, waiting. Halloween was coming, and she wondered if he'd return, and if she could wait that long.


End file.
